Was it merely lust or also trust?
His hand brushed her hair off her face. He cradled the back of her head, the nape of her neck nestled in his palm.
“Oh, Jackie,” he murmured over and over, his voice husky and dry.
She took him deep as she closed her lips tight around his shaft and rubbed her tongue up and down. Suddenly stiffer and more swollen, his balls contracted in her hand and his cock convulsed as he came.
The ridges in the shoulder of the road rattled the car. Jackie jerked up and whipped her seat belt back on.
“It’s okay,” Brandon said. He grabbed the wheel with both hands. He wet his dry lips.
Jackie pulled back. “I thought it was slightly better than average, if I may so myself.”
“I meant our position on the road was fine.” With a deep exhalation, his shoulders slumped. “You, my dear, could make a dead man come.”
His relaxed upper body contrasted with his still-erect dick. Jackie couldn’t resist reaching over and giving his cock a playful flick with her finger.
“Hey, watch it.” In a flash, Brandon snatched her wrist.
“Well, I’m just checking to see if you’re up for more.” She tugged unsuccessfully.
“I think the answer to that is obvious, don’t you? But, there’s some other business first.”
Jackie’s breath caught. Had she not given him what he wanted?
Brandon let go of her wrist and slid his hand over her thigh.
“Yeah, other business, like getting you as naked as I am.” Brandon moved his hand up her thigh.
“Now?” Jackie squirmed.
He steered the car to exit the highway.
Jackie looked around for signs of development. Brandon pressed his hand harder against her. Her pussy ached for him. “Here?”
He winked at her when they stopped at the bottom of the exit ramp. “Maybe.”
Brandon pulled the car from the stop into a tight left-hand turn. Jackie braced.
“Maybe not,” he said, his face suddenly serious and focused on the road ahead.
Brandon moved through a series of curves at speeds too fast for the rental car, yet his hand remained tight against her sex.
The scenery opened up as the road straightened. The car sped along, an arrow through lush, green woods. Light at the end of the canopied tunnel sparkled silvery white on the horizon. The Chesapeake Bay lay ahead. Jackie let out the breath she didn’t realized she’d been holding. They must be heading to his boat. They were somewhere between Baltimore and Annapolis. But where? And why?
Brandon slid his hand inside her hose, found the edge of her panties and sneaked a finger in. The rest of his fingers followed suit, burrowing themselves between the fabric and Jackie’s body. He rubbed her roughly, gliding one finger between her lips. Another followed to spread her apart. Wet from when she’d blown him, her body offered little resistance.
“Mmm,” was all she could say. She tipped her head back against the seat. She spread her knees apart to open herself to his touch.
The car decelerated and stopped.
Brandon’s sailboat bobbed in the water twenty yards ahead.
“Jackie.” Brandon slid a finger, and then another, into her.
The sensation of fullness took her breath away. “What?” she said with a sharp intake of air.
“My right hand is a little busy. Would you mind turning the car off for me?”
With her left hand, Jackie reached over, put the car into Park, and turned the engine off. “Now what?”
“I was thinking that I would lead you by your pussy onto my boat, where I’d take off your clothes, lay you on the deck, then lick every inch of your body until you come and then beg me to drive my cock into you.”
With a gulp, Jackie gripped Brandon’s fingers with her vaginal muscles. “How are we supposed to get to the boat?” The expanse of water between the shore and the boat stretched on for miles in Jackie’s nonswimming mind.
“Afraid of getting wet?” Brandon inserted another finger deep into her and held her tight.
He pulled his fingers out from her body and ran his them over his own lips before he opened his mouth and sucked her juice from his fingertips. “I’d say you’re wet enough already. What are a few drops of water?”
“I can’t swim!”
“I’ll take care of you. Just trust me.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard.
Chapter Nineteen
Jackie watched Brandon jog to a dinghy nestled under a nearby sweet bay magnolia at the shoreline. With a small heave, he freed it from its resting place. Brandon gave Jackie an elaborate flourish of arms and a stately bow and announced, “Your carriage awaits, my lady.”
Jackie remained fixed in place leaning against the car’s hood, arms crossed over her chest. “Before I get in that thing, where are we going?”
Brandon returned to the car and gave her a kiss on the lips. “To my boat, where else? Come on.” He retrieved a duffel bag from the trunk and loaded it into the dinghy. It hit with a heavy thunk as if full of lead weights.
Jackie’s entire body tensed. She hated the water. Sipping cocktails on a boat tied to a dock was tolerable; being in the middle of a big body of water terrified her. Unless she got some answers, she’d stay on dry land. She drew a long breath. “I’m smart enough to have figured out we’re going to your boat. Where are we going after we get onto it? And how long are we going to be gone? And, why the hell are we going on a boat? Are you in hiding or something?”
“I thought we were getting a little closer to that thing called trust. You’re like a female John Wayne, out to save the world by her lonesome. Can you try to imagine how two might be stronger than one?”
“You want to talk about trust? Fine. What happened in Charlottesville years ago with you, Ashe, and the girl?”
Brandon stiffened. “That has nothing to do with what’s going on now.”
Jackie’s eyes narrowed to ice him over. “Are you sure? Because when I started sniffing around that matter, things started getting dicey. Ashe was involved then, and he’s involved now. You conveniently show up as his witness at the last minute, when Ashe knew he was going to lose. Gary Stone is walking around like a bumbling zombie, warning me right and left in between interfering—”
“Shit!” Brandon ran full speed at her.
Jackie turned. A car was barreling down the narrow road straight at them. Was it the same one that had run her over in the park? She pulled her briefcase out of the car, kicked off her impractical shoes, and ran into Brandon’s arms.
“Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” Brandon gripped her tight around the upper arm and pulled her in the direction of the dinghy.
Brandon pushed her roughly into the dinghy. Sweat poured off his face and neck as he pushed the boat into the water. Wet up to his knees, he hopped in and started up the outboard motor.
After they started moving, he glanced over his shoulder to the shore. “Get down,” he yelled at Jackie while he pushed her head down.
Distant pops peppered the rhythmic lapping of the water. “What was that? What that gunfire?”
Brandon cut the motor as they approached the sailboat. “Stay down.” He pulled the little boat against the sailboat and held it close to a ladder. “Climb up and lie down in the cockpit.”
This time, Jackie didn’t ask questions or hesitate. The boat rocked under her weight on the ladder, but she scampered up the ladder and into the boat. She tossed her briefcase in. Before she threw herself down, she looked back to the shore. Two men stood there watching.
Other than being the approximate size and shape of small gorillas, they were nondescript in jeans, T-shirts, and ball caps pulled low over sunglass-shaded eyes. Their hands were at their waists, holding something. Guns? Brandon was right. Stay down.
Brandon’s mop of hair showed over the back near the ladder. He climbed on board and quickly finished tying up the dinghy to the back of the boat.
&n
bsp; He’d made it. Thank God.
Jackie crawled to her knees to see what was going on. The grainy, nonslip paint of the boat dug into her skin. Brandon crouched, moving catlike around the boat. He untied and tied ropes and removed covers from things.
“Jackie,” he called, “I think we’re out of their guns’ ranges, but let’s get out of here fast. Can you help?”
Despite having grown up in Baltimore, a sailing mecca, Jackie had never been in the yachting group. That caste was several steps above her blue-collar upbringing. Everything on the boat was as foreign to her as a spacecraft. She hated feeling incompetent. He couldn’t see her that way.
Tucking her fears of the water and incompetency deep inside, she stood up and held on to the wheel. “What do you want me to do?”
“Turn the key near the helm, then hit the black button until you hear the motor,” Brandon said from the front of the boat, where he was messing with sails and more ropes.
Jackie looked back to the shore. The men were at Brandon’s car now. What could they be looking for? Who were they? Why would someone be shooting at them?
“Turn the boat on. Now!”
Jackie returned her attention to the boat’s controls at the helm. The key turned easily to the On position. Next to the key was the black button, which she pushed. The motor purred immediately.
Brandon gave her a thumbs-up from the front of the boat. “Now I want you to move her forward just a hair to loosen the tension on the anchor chain so I can bring it up. Move the lever forward for a second, then put it back into neutral.”
Jackie talked herself through the maneuver. “Forward for two, then back to neutral.”
The level slid silkily forward, and the boat immediately responded.
“Back to neutral.” She slid the level to neutral.
Brandon easily hauled up the anchor and stored it in a hatch near the front of the boat. With a few easy bounds, he was back in the cockpit.
“Well done. I knew you had it in you. Let’s motor out of here, and then we’ll raise the main.” Brandon managed one soft pat on her butt, letting his hand linger. “Have a seat.” He nodded to the bench lining the side of the cockpit.
The boat rumbled. The dinghy trailed behind like the little plastic turtle on a string she had as a child. Where was it now?
Her mom had packed everything of hers and carted it off to St. Vincent de Paul in one fatal bipolar swoop. Everything precious to her had been classified as junk by her mother and thrown out.
“My life’s not junk,” she muttered as she looked at the little boat bobbing on the waves behind the sailboat.
“Your life’s not what?” Brandon asked.
“Never mind. Do you know who those goons were and why they were shooting at us?”
A throbbing pain from her leg registered. Blood trickled down the length of her leg and had started to dry dark and cracked. She must have scraped it getting into the boat.
Brandon focused on their course. “I don’t know. My best guess is Ashe’s henchmen. He’s never been known for subtly, but guns?” He looked at her leg and cringed. “Once we get under sail, I’ll clean that up.”
“Don’t worry, I can do it myself. Is there a first aid kit down below?” Jackie crept to the door to the cabin, keeping a hand on something at all times. How soon until they could get back to land?
“In the bathroom. On your left. Under the sink. It’ll be easier to walk when I get the sails up. You’ll get your sea legs in no time.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Jackie shot him a sideways glare before she headed below.
“Hey, babe, there’s some clothes in the black duffel bag if you want to change. Not exactly your size or style, but help yourself.” His voice was warm and relaxed.
How could he be so calm? They’d just been shot at! Not to mention “babe.” Did getting a blowjob in the car entitle a man to use cheesy terms of endearment?
Yet, it had been so long since a man had used a term of endearment with her and genuinely meant it. The sales clerks at the bakery obviously didn’t count.
Did Brandon mean it?
She braced herself against the boat’s sway by holding on to a bunk. The scent of lemon oil emanated from all the polished wood. The cabin was meticulously clean and tidy. A half-dozen side steps took her to the bathroom where she quickly located the first-aid kit. The mirror in the bathroom revealed a disheveled woman. Her hair was matted to her sweaty forehead. Worse, it had parted itself in a jagged line close to the middle so she looked like a bad throwback to the 1970s.
Grease, or something black, smeared her jacket. Damn it, totally ruined. She fingered the rip in her skirt. That was her best suit. The one saved for court appearances. The pantyhose were toast too. She wiggled her toes. Her killer pumps were missing. Where were they? She winced. She’d ditched them while running. Those shoes had cost a small fortune. More than she had left in her bank account.
Her nose began to tingle. Her vision blurred. She was not going to lose it over a pair of shoes. With a deep breath, she stared at herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. “Get it together, North.” Like so many times before, like every time she stood up before a jury for an opening statement, she steeled her insides, rolled her shoulders back, and elongated her spine to stand straight, tall, and powerful. She’d conquer her fear of water like she took down a hostile witness.
Focus. Logic.
Her breathing normalized, and she blinked away the harbinger of an emotional disaster.
Although she wasn’t sure as to the origins of the water from the tap in the bathroom, she turned it on, splashed her face, and then washed her hands.
Jackie set a dampened towel and the first-aid kit on the table. She stripped to her bra and underpants and sat at the edge of the small booth behind the table and cleaned her leg.
“Yeow,” she screeched as she jumped, and then banged her head on the low ceiling. “Shit.”
“Are you okay down there?” Only Brandon’s legs were visible to Jackie from below.
“Peachy,” Jackie yelled. She rubbed her scalp where a bump was sure to form and got back to her first aid. The boat’s rolling roiled her stomach, and she yearned for fresh air and solid ground.
Brandon appeared at the hatch to the cabin. “Hey, that’s a nice outfit. I take back my offer for clothes. Just come on up as you are.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be driving?” Jackie asked.
“We’re cool. Out of the shore’s view and on autopilot. Totally safe. Need some help?”
His smile dazzled and tempted her, but she wanted answers first. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
She found the black duffel. A bottle rolled in a T-shirt rested on top of the bag’s cache. Wine. French. She laid it in the galley’s sink.
The T-shirt, which had enveloped the wine, was another faded and holey shirt. Maybe when you become a millionaire by age thirty, you enjoy wearing thrift-store-quality clothes? She held it up to her face and nuzzled into it, taking in the fresh scent of soap. It would do just fine.
She slipped it over her head and looked down to see a University of Virginia logo stretched across her chest. The shirt actually fit well. She closed her eyes to imagine a skinny version of Brandon buying a college-logo T-shirt as a senior in high school. What had he hoped for?
Him calling her name startled her out of her daydream. She’d better find some shorts. She dug deeper and found a thick black notebook. She couldn’t resist a peek. It was full of pages upon pages of numbers that looked vaguely familiar.
“What are you doing down there?” Brandon called.
She put the notebook to the side. A pair of running shorts looked wearable. The shorts were baggy and rested on her hips just above her underwear line. She turned the waistband out to pull the drawstring tighter, but it was missing. A grumble ticked the back of her throat, and her eyes rolled. Couldn’t this guy afford new shorts?
The sun burst into her vision when she slid the hatch op
en. Her hand above her eyes to shade the glare, Jackie squinted at Brandon. “Got any extra sunglasses?”
He reached into a cubby next to the wheel and pulled out a pair. “Catch.”
She put on the large, mirrored, wraparound glasses with black plastic frames. “Do I look like Richard Petty?” Jackie climbed up the stairs to him.
Brandon snorted out a single laugh. “The vision of you in a cowboy hat and jumpsuit next to a stock car is priceless.”
“I would be offended, but I suspect my vision of you being skinny enough to fit into this T-shirt is just as hilarious.” She blew him an air kiss.
He opened his mouth to say something but closed it. “Never mind. Let’s get the mainsail up. And seeing that no one has followed us out here, I wouldn’t mind getting a few other important items up.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s why you love me,” he said as he tickled her waist.
Did she?
Love him?
Chapter Twenty
Brandon gave her precise instructions on how and where to steer the boat so that he could raise the mainsail. She watched the little arrow at the top of the mast—the windex he’d called it—to move the boat directly into the wind.
Surefooted as a mountain goat, Brandon hopped to the main mast, undid lines, and with fast, rhythmic pulls, hoisted the mainsail. The bay’s breeze whipped it into a canvas of undulating peaks and valleys, a mirror of the surface of the water below them. The rippling canvas sent out sharp cracks as it fluttered high above.
Brandon bounded back to the helm. “Great job. Now we cut the engine and come off the wind to get some momentum.”
With the engine silenced, the water ran along the side of the boat in a steady gurgle. The sail was taut and bright white against the azure sky. Brandon was right. The boat sailed more smoothly now.
Brandon pulled at some ropes and the sail at the front unfurled. The boat picked up speed. Gravity pulled Jackie back into the seat as the boat keeled while slicing through the water.
The wind beat Jackie’s hair around her face. She was speechless, something that rarely happened to her.
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